


Reality

by GufettoGrigio



Category: Formula 1 RPF, Motorsport RPF
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:27:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25676584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GufettoGrigio/pseuds/GufettoGrigio
Summary: It’s one of those things he does not know how to explain.Nelson has been fine with it for 30 years and, all of a sudden, he is not fine anymore.
Relationships: Alain Prost & Ayrton Senna, Nelson Piquet/Alain Prost
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Reality

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fearless_seas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fearless_seas/gifts).



> For the amazing fearless_seas (@pieregasly on tumblr) who has been sailing this amazing ship by herself. Happy Birthday!

_There are two kinds of heartbreak._

_The first is when_

_someone is reckless with_

_your heart_

_and it breaks and shatters_

_in ways_

_you never thought it could_

  
  


It’s one of those things he does not know how to explain. He’s been fine with it for 30 years and, all of a sudden, he is not fine anymore. He gets up early after a sleepless night and wanders around the house. Any other day the familiarity of it would have been soothing - the pictures of their children on the walls, their books in all the different languages scattered in every space that’s not the bookshelf, their toothbrushes together by the bathroom sink. Today, it just feels like it’s a lie. All of it, everything, all the way down the creaky couch that Alain is too sentimental to throw away. He stumbles into the study, _Alain’s_ study, and even if there’s no pictures here, there it fucking is: the goddamn Brazilian helmet amongst their shared trophies. He feels a need, irrational, powerful to just trash the place. Break everything, the whole of it, smash the helmet against the window just to see the glass break. 

_“Stop being a child, Nelson”_ \- he hears Alain say in his head and it hurts. He slides down to sit on the floor, legs straight in front of him. He refuses to curl up in a corner to cry like some love sick fool. From its shelf, the helmet mocks him.

Staring at it, Nelson wishes he were still young, he wishes he hadn’t fucked up his eyes, he wishes Ayrton wasn’t dead so that he could at least fight, have a chance on an even playing field instead of being the asshole who disrespects a ghost. He wishes he could trash the room, throw the helmet away for real because fuck it, Ayrton is dead and the dead have lost their chance to care about anything or anyone. He hates himself knowing that he won’t, not for Ayrton but for Alain. Alain who still murmurs a name that’s not Nelson’s in his dreams and who Nelson still loves too much to deliberately hurt without shredding his heart to pieces in the process. 

He hears the padding of feet down the stairs, steps going to the kitchen first and then stopping, confused. Any other day, he’d hate for Alain to find him like this, to let him see just how deep he can tear, how hard he can make Nelson bleed but he is past caring. He’ll own the pain if he can’t own anything else. The door of the study creaks open, Alain poking his head in.

“I thought you had gone for a run, what are you...Nelson?”

It must be on his face, or maybe he has cried - who the fuck knows or cares - because Alain trails off, looking at him with concern.

“Nelson, what happened? Are the kids alright?”

It makes Nelson want to laugh, bitter and hurtful. Yes, the kids are alright. It's him that isn't but fuck, he can't get air in his lungs and the laugh stays there. He just looks up at Alain instead then lets his gaze pointedly flick to Ayrton’s helmet.

Alain just looks increasingly worried and still utterly confused. He has not even realized it himself, then. Nelson does not know if that makes it better or worse.

“The kids are alright." - he says and watches Alain release the breath he had been holding. Alain is a good father if not a good lover and he cares. In silence, he lets Alain come into the room, sitting down in front of him, stretching out so that their legs are touching and Alain's hand is a warm, familiar weight on his ankle. It hurts.

"You talk in your sleep, you know?” - Nelson tells him, merciless, and watches Alain go white, a look of pure horror taking over his features. He has never been much to look at, Alain, but this is one of the ugliest looks Nelson has ever seen on him.

“If you dare try to apologize or make an excuse, I will throw something at you.” Nelson goes on before Alain can open his mouth “And it will be something sharp and heavy, just so you know.” 

Alain seems to think about it for a moment, like there are words stuck right there on the tip of his tongue but he hesitates in forcing them out. Then reaches out instead, moving his hand up to rest on Nelson’s thigh and Nelson feels an instinctive need to slide closer because Alain is still so tiny that he has to actually stretch to reach him and there will never be a day when that fails to make Nelson’s heart flutter. 

“You don't understand how important you are to me, Nelson." - Alain tells him. He sounds like he means it too so maybe, probably, it is true. And Alain would probably repeat it again, looking straight into his eyes if only Nelson asked but he fucked up his eyes ages ago anyway, so he keeps them on the floor instead.

_The second is when_

_you break_

_someone else’s heart_

_Because you’ll never_

_know pain_

_like the type that has you_

_look into their eyes_

_but they look away_

_(Courtney Peppernell)_

**Author's Note:**

> The poem is from "Pillow Thoughts II - Healing the Heart" by Courtney Peppernell. The whole trilogy is great, if you want to check it out.  
> If you need any convincing that Nelson and Alain ought to be a thing, just read anything else in their tag - much better writers than me can enlighten you.


End file.
